The Nemesis Machine
by But The Kids Like It
Summary: Dick Grayson, as well as several other high-ransom victims, is kidnapped. However, this isn't any run-of-the-mill abduction. The Injustice League has something far more sinister planned, and soon the entire world is in peril.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em.

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><p>Everyone who was anyone in Gotham City stood in the ballroom of Wayne Manor on a Saturday night, stuffing themselves full of hors d'oeuvres on behalf of the billionaire playboy and pretending to enjoy sedate violin music. Leaning against a marble column, Dick Grayson reflected that they were little more than chickens trussed up in a peacock's feathers. Even their loud, obnoxious laughter reminded him of the farm animals.<p>

In the center of the room stood the man himself, Bruce Wayne, in an elegant, perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He held a glass of champagne in one hand and laughed gently at whatever the elderly man standing next to him was saying, despite the fact that it couldn't possibly have been funny.

"Are you having a good night so far?" Julie Madison appeared beside him with a swish of her silk skirt, the wine in her hand matching the crimson of her dress.

"Oh, it's okay," he replied. "It's a little boring for me, to be honest, but Bruce looks happy, and it is his party, after all." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. His social obligation, maybe.

"Yes, of course, you..." Julie trailed off, her attention attracted elsewhere. She narrowed her eyes. "Who is that woman? The one standing next to Bruce."

Bruce was still the epicenter of the party, but in the place of his elderly companion stood a woman about Bruce's age, with long, dark hair and snakelike eyes. He couldn't have said why, but there was something about these green eyes that put Dick on guard.

"Dick! Dick, come over here." Bruce beckoned to his ward. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Detaching himself from the column, Dick nodded at Julie. "I don't know who she is, but I think I'm about to find out." She flounced away, scowling irately, and he reluctantly made his way across the marble dance floor.

"Dick, this is Maria Lucette. I knew her when I was a child, and she's recently returned to Gotham after fifteen years abroad," Bruce explained. The two adults smiled at each other, and Dick raised an eyebrow fractionally. "Maria, this is my son, Dick."

"Charmed, Miss Lucette," murmured Dick, holding his hand out.

"Please, call me Maria," she laughed, clasping his hand in one of hers. Her rings were cold to the touch. "I'm afraid I've been away for too long," she said, turning back to Bruce. "I had no idea that you already had a son. He looks just like you did... Except for the eyes. Such pretty blue eyes. I assume they're from his mother...?"

"Yes, they are," interjected Dick before Bruce could explain.

"Is she here tonight?" asked Maria, looking around. "She must be a very special woman to have..." she trailed off, catching the looks on both of their faces. "Oh, I-"

"No, it's perfectly all right," Bruce assured her, laying an overly-friendly hand on her arm. "I adopted Dick seven years ago. I'm afraid I never knew his mother." Maria looked pleased by this, and Dick decided it was probably time to leave the two of them alone (for both his sake and their own), especially before Julie decided it was time to intervene.

"You'll have to excuse me," he said, not bothering to give an explanation that everyone would see through anyway. "It was so nice to meet you, Maria." He pasted on his thousand-watt smile. "Not for the last time, I hope."

"Certainly not," she laughed, and as he turned his back, he heard her whisper, "What a charming child..."

Snake.

He walked into the enormous foyer, where hung the million-dollar chandelier, thirty feet above his head. When he was eight, he had been positive that the thing would come crashing down right as he was standing underneath it. To this day, he still gave it a wide berth, walking in a wide circle around it until he reached the front door.

As soon as he exited the mansion, the temperature dropped ten degrees. He loosened his necktie and began to walk away from the house, stepping across the perfectly manicured lawn. He stopped a hundred feet away and turned to squint up at the house. In the southeast corner was his room, spanning three full windows. Most of the second floor was dark, but he had forgotten to turn his lamp off. From where he was standing, he could just see the top of the bookshelves that lined his far wall.

A soft footfall came from behind, and Dick whirled around just in time to see the grinning clown mask before its club came down on his head.

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><p><em>Slam<em>.

Dick awoke curled up against the wall he had just slammed into, his entire body throbbing. He blinked a couple of times, trying to dash the spots out of his vision, and cringed as he found himself face to face with the Joker.

"Hello, Dickie," grinned the clown. "Enjoying the ride?" The van, empty except for the boy and the kidnapper, lurched again, jarring him painfully. Behind his back, a length of coarse rope pulled his wrists and ankles together, chafing at his skin.

"Don't worry, " continued the Joker. He pulled out a long knife and started to pick at his teeth with it. "You'll be home again before you know it. I'm sure your father will be willing to pay any amount of money to get his precious little boy back... How many millions is too many for you?"

"Since when are you interested in money, Joker?" Dick demanded. Behind his back, he began to turn his wrists slowly, ignoring the way it pulled at his skin. His best chance for escape would be when they opened the doors to the van, but he wouldn't be able to get far when trussed up like a pig.

"Oh, I'm not..." the Joker idly spun the knife on his fingertip. "But I know someone who is, and really, how could I pass up the chance to spend some time with Bruce Wayne's bundle of joy?" The blade fell, and he cackled wildly as he caught it inches from Dick's chest. "You and I are going to have so much fun together."

"Screw you," Dick snarled, which only made the clown laugh harder. He continued to taunt his captive, but Dick ignored him, staring stonily at the wall and working furiously to loosen his bonds.

Thirty minutes later, the van skidded to a stop, bashing Dick's head against the wall rather hard. He winced as his teeth came down hard on his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Behind his head, the van doors were swung open, and he was dumped unceremoniously onto someone's driveway. At the end lay a dark, stately country estate, and the hills extended for miles. Far to the west lay the glittering lights of Gotham, cold and distant.

Before one of them could grab him, Dick pulled his hands out of their loosened ties and swung his legs around, catching the nearest mask in the knees. He kicked off the now-useless rope and jumped to his feet, knocking the gun out of the grip of the nearest goon.

"Feisty, aren't we?" the Joker giggled. "I knew you'd be fun!" With that, he lunged, knife outstretched. Dick sidestepped it, backing away. He quickly shed the suit jacket and pushed up his sleeves, thinking fast. If he turned and ran, the Joker would be on him in no time. He could fight, but it was unlikely he'd win against the Joker and his henchmen combined, not to mention whomever might be waiting inside the mansion that lay at the end of the driveway. No, if he fought he would only get himself hurt, and possibly even found out. Right now, he wasn't Robin. He was just Dick Grayson, and Dick Grayson was weak.

He ran at the Joker, fist coiled, but before he reached his foe, his toe caught on a nonexistent rock and he went sprawling at the clown's feet. In seconds, the masks were on him again, tying him up more tightly than before.

"Not bad." The Joker stood over him, cracked, red lips stretched up into a ghastly smile that exposed sharp yellow teeth. "But not good enough. Let's go." He led the way up to the mansion, purple coattails rippling in the wind. One of the grunts grabbed the extra length of rope that trailed from Dick's bindings and looped it around his hand, and then began to drag Dick up the hill.

By the time they reached the mansion, Dick's shirt was ripped to shreds, and the left side of his face was a scraped and bloody mess. To his credit, he hadn't cried out once, only bit his lip and let the angry tears seep into his cuts and sting.

The Joker rang the doorbell, then turned back to Dick. "Perfect," he announced, taking in the boy's tattered shirt and torn face. He grabbed a fistful of his captive's hair and hauled him up to his knees. "Oh, my employer will be so pleased. But the best part is yet to come... We're shooting a video, and you're going to be the star!" At that moment, the door swung open, and there stood framed Two-Face.

"Double the trouble," Dick muttered under his breath.

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><p>The room was completely empty except for two wooden chairs. It was dusty, dank and moldering at the corners, a perfect home for rats and spiders. But before Dick could notice any of this, he caught sigh of the person in the chair, and the dread nesting in his chest cavity began to grow.<p>

Ropes wound all around Julie Madison's slumped body, securing her tightly to the chair. Her dark curls were in disarray, and her makeup was smudged with tears. The red dress she had been wearing earlier was torn, revealing bruised and rent skin.

As soon as she caught sight of Dick, she began to struggle. "No!" she cried, straining against her bonds. "He's just a child! You can't-"

"Shut up," Two-Face growled. "I can and I have, and you can and _will_ be quiet."

"Make me!" she snapped, and Two-Face slammed his fist into Dick's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. He gasped like a landed fish as his captor shoved him into the remaining chair and began to tie him up. Julie was silent throughout.

With both prisoners tied and subdued, Two-Face stepped away, pulling a video camera out of his coat pocket. After fiddling with it for a moment, he set it on a shelf and came to stand between his captives.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," he said in a gravelly monotone. "Hope you had a pleasant party. Too bad your girl ran away in the middle of it, and your boy soon after." He smirked, half of his face twitching up grotesquely. "I'll cut to the chase. You know the game. One billion dollars, Mr. Wayne, dropped off at 42 Chance Street. Not too much to ask in exchange for your loved ones, is it?

"We'll be ready for the ransom whenever you are, but I wouldn't delay... Every day you wait, I'll break a piece of off one of _these," _with a gesture to his two companions. "Let's see who wants to go first." Twitching his sleeve, a heavy silver coin appeared between his fingers. "Heads, it's little Dickie, tails, pretty miss Julie." He flicked it into the air, and as it spun, Dick closed his eyes and hoped- for what, he wasn't sure.

"Heads." Two-Face tilted his palm, showing the camera the unmarked side of the coin. "How unlucky for you, Mr. Grayson, but it's only fair. Miss Madison will get her turn soon enough, as do we all." He leaned over and brushed Dick's hair aside, his touch tender, and then reached down and began to untie Dick's arms. He grabbed the boy's left hand and held it up. "One billion dollars," he reminded the camera, and then wrenched Dick's hand back, snapping his wrist. He screamed as the bones cracked, lighting his nerves on fire that shot all the way up his arm.

"I hope to see you soon, Mr. Wayne." The video ended, and Dick swore under his breath. He'd missed what was probably his only chance to get a message to the Batman.

"Beautiful performance!" The Joker strolled in, clapping his hands. "Just excellent. Brava, Richard!" Dick glared at him, clutching his limp hand to his chest even as he used his toes to nudge at the knots securing his legs. Two-Face had let the rope go slack, seeming to assume that Dick would be too hurt and disoriented to try and escape.

Wrong.

"Just know that you're contributing to a great cause," continued the Joker, coming to stand in front of them. "What it is, I can't tell you just yet. But don't worry, you'll find out soon enough, and the whole world will know that _you _paid for the upcoming performance."

"Do you _ever _stop talking?" demanded Julie, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant.

For a moment, the Joker looked taken aback. "Well! Bruce Wayne _does_ pick interesting companions. That's good. I like to play with my food." He bent down and began to undo her bindings.

"When my fiancée finds out about this, you're _dead._"

The clown looked up, and Julie hocked a gob of spit into his deathly pale face, then licked her lips clean of saliva. "I'm Julie Madison, and your days are numbered, asshole."

He stood, carefully wiping the spit from above his frozen, red grin. Then, in a sudden motion, he brought the knife down hard on the ropes, missing her legs by a hair and startling a scream out of her. He hacked at them again and again until they lay in a pile around her stilettos, and she was pale and shaking.

"Fear," he said, extending a hand out to Julie, who stared at it as if it were a spider. "It's a beautiful thing. I used to be beautiful once, you know..." he grabbed her chin, pulling their faces together. Ignoring them, Two-Face tucked the camera away and began to undo Dick's bonds.

"...And now no one will even touch me." The clown stroked her face. "You can barely even stand to look at me. Imagine, Miss Madison... Soon to be Mrs. Wayne... Imagine poor Bruce, falling into a tank of toxic waste. Imagine him, looking like _me. _Would you still love him? Would you still... touch him?"

Lower lip trembling, she simply shook her head, as if she could dislodge his words, that image, from her mind that easily.

Turning away disgustedly, the Joker placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a long, low whistle. Instantly, two masked goons hurried into the room with tanks of gasoline and began to drench the plaster walls with flammable liquid. Dick blanched. Surely they still needed them, surely they wouldn't lock them in this room to burn.

But then Two-Face scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder, and Dick breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, they'd live another day. At the very least, they wouldn't burn.

All four emerged under the stars again, and the Joker paused to reconsider the mansion. Depositing Julie on the ground and dropping his now-empty can of gasoline, the clown pulled a match from his pocket and tossed it over the threshold.

The resulting explosion was so violent that Two-Face stumbled backwards, bumping Dick's head painfully against the back of the truck. He let the boy down onto the gravel, keeping a vise-like grip on his arm.

"But y-your men," whispered Julie. "They were... they were in there, you left them..." She stood with her back to Dick, hair whipping in the wind that fed the firestorm, clutching the folds of her flapping dress in two fists.

For a moment, Dick thought he saw the ghost of a grinning mask framed in a second-story window, and a desperate hand pressed to the glass. Then the window exploded outward in a shower of deadly shards, and the fire consumed everything inside.

"As much as I'd like to stay and admire this, it's time we went," called the truck driver, sticking his head out the window. "Get in so we can go before the police show up!"

Tearing themselves away from the allure of the fire, the two criminals pulled the bay doors open and shoved their captives inside. Dick tripped over the step and, unable to break his fall with an already broken wrist, crashed painfully onto his right elbow.

"Are you all right?"

His head snapped up at the familiar voice, and Dick found himself staring into the bruised and bloodied face of Roy Harper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited! It means a lot. Also, allow me to clear some things up: This takes place when Robin is 15, putting Roy at about 20. Everyone else's ages correspond accordingly. Julie Madison is Bruce's fiancée; I took her from the comics.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em.

Anyways, here's chapter two! And Merry Christmas Eve.

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><p>The situation was almost laughable.<p>

On the floor of the rent-a-truck sat six hostages, all bound in various ways and surrounded by armed masks. All six were related to four of the rich and most influential business people on the East Coast, including Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen- also known as Batman and Green Arrow. Not to mention the fact that they now had a pair of unpredictable heroes in their own right sitting in that truck. The retribution they were asking for would be brutal, and even for a crime organization employing Gotham's greatest villains, Dick thought they were in over their heads.

"Oh, you're really asking for it," commented Dick, earning himself a half-hearted kick to the side from the nearest goon.

"Why are you here?" hissed Roy, edging closer to the other boy.

"I came for a visit," retorted Dick in a low voice, rolling his eyes as he awkwardly pushed himself back into a sitting position. "Same as you, numbskull- clubbed over the head, thrown into the back of a van, brought to Chez Creepy to get publicly beaten up in a ransom video."

Roy looked at him, puzzled. "That's not what happened to me."

"Oi, shut up," snapped one of the criminals, prodding Roy in the shoulder with his gun. "You'll be doing no plotting under _my _watch."

"No plotting at all," agreed Dick innocently. This time, it was Roy who kicked him- or tried to, rather, a large amount of electrical tape restricting his movement.

As soon as the man had turned away, Dick murmured, "What happened to you, then?"

"Oh, you know, just your average five o'clock drinks with the coworkers when _Bulls-Eye _steps into the bar," Roy answered furiously, having trouble keeping his voice down. "Anyway, he's not subtle about it. He says that if anyone moves, they're dead, and he tells me that if I don't come with him, bodies will start dropping. So I come with him, intending to fight as soon as we get outside and there are less... civilian liabilities lying around." It was clear by this point that Roy was unable to whisper, and Dick was glad that their captors were occupied by two of the other prisoners, a pair of snuffling and whining twins.

"But they surrounded me, beat me, bound and gagged me, threw a sack over my head and tossed me into the trunk of a car. Not a pleasant experience. I almost suffocated." He frowned at the memory. "As soon as they opened the trunk, they whipped the bag off my head, snapped a picture and cut off some of my hair. I guess that's what they sent with the ransom note... I was transferred to this truck along with those two brats, and later we picked up grandma." He jerked his head towards an old lady sitting morosely in a corner.

Dick shook his head. "Sounds like you had an all right time of it, then."

The older boy snorted. "I can't believe they just strolled into a respectable establishment in a respectable part of a respectable city, which _I_ make sure is respectable, and just..." He trailed off helplessly. "This sucks."

"Wiser words were never spoken."

A wail echoed around the metal interior of the truck, drawing all eyes. Where physical harm had served to subdue the elder prisoners, it had only incited the twins to cause a scene. They were by far the youngest captives- at least five years younger than Dick himself, putting them at about nine or ten. Both the boy and the girl were blonde, with large, brown doe eyes and pouting lips devoted to the sole purpose of complaining.

"I want to go home," sobbed the boy, clinging onto his sister's waist. "I want my daddy! Take me ho-o-ome..." Beside him, the girl buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking.

"Aw, c'mon, don't cry," cajoled one of the masks. "Look, your daddy is going to give us one billion dollars, and soon the whole Sanford family will be together again- minus a billion dollars, of course- just in time to watch the Injustice League take over the world."

At that, Dick's head snapped up. The Injustice League. Of course. Once again, Lex Luthor was making a bid for world domination, and this time the price was four billion dollars. A billion from Bruce Wayne, on the heads of his betrothed, Julie Madison and his son, Dick Grayson; a billion from Oliver Queen, in exchange for his ward, Roy Harper; a billion from Regulus Sanford of the Boston , for his pride and his joy; and if Dick guessed correctly, the fourth ransom note would be sent to Ezekiel Jacobsen, head of JackalCorp, on threat of his mother's life.

It was a bigger production than he had previously thought, and if this weren't nipped in the bud _before_ the money was delivered, the Justice League and Robin's own team were going to have a very large problem on their hands.

When the truck slid to a stop, canvas sacks were pulled out and promptly slid over the heads of all the captives. Light and shadow could just barely be distinguished through the crudely woven threads of the sacks, and it was one of these indistinct shadows that caught him as he stumbled into the light of some large room.

"Bring them this way," ordered an oily voice.

"That's not a part of the plan," argued the rough tone of Bulls-Eye. "We're supposed to keep them downstairs until the ransom is delivered."

"There's no sense in just leaving them down there," replied the first speaker irately. "I may never get such a chance again. They may as well serve a second purpose during their brief infringement on our premises."

"Lex doesn't want them to see the rest of the compound," growled the second. "You want Ollie Queen's personal army storming in here because of some tipoff the boy gave 'em?"

"This is not up for debate, unless you wish to tangle with Luthor himself," snapped the other. "They are going to be our test subjects."

"I have a lot of trouble believing he would have told me one thing and you another. If one of these hostages die before they're paid for, we're short one billion dollars! Can you afford to throw away a billion bucks?"

"Bulls-Eye," said the first softly, and with his voice came the sound of a gun being cocked. "I have a bulls-eye right between your eyes right now. Can you afford to throw away your life? Walk away."

Star City's favorite villain retreated, muttering darkly under his breath.

The trip to their destination- wherever that might be- seemed to drag on forever. From the way their footsteps echoed, Dick assumed they were navigating their way through a warren of tiled hallways, not unlike that of an office building or hospital. From behind him came the occasional grunt or sniffle, as the other captives struggled blindly to keep their footing.

At last, they came to a stop, pulling the bags off. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate a square room, covered in the kind of ceramic tiles one might find in a pool or bathroom. Showerheads lined two of the walls, four to a side, and the floor slanted inwards slightly, towards a drain set in the center of the room.

"This can't be good," remarked Dick. Much as he would like to believe that the villains were just giving them a chance to wash the blood and dirt from their faces, he sincerely doubted it.

The doubt increased when he turned and found himself faced with the sloppily stitched grin of the Scarecrow himself, master of fear.

"Nice to see you all." He twiddled two fingers in a half-hearted wave. "Now we're going to leave you six alone, and mind you behave yourself." He beckoned Two-Face and the masks out, closing the door behind him with the ominous click of a locking mechanism being engaged.

Immediately, the Sanford twins raced to the portal, twisting and tugging at the handle to no avail. "Let us out!" screamed the boy, smacking his fists against the unforgiving metal.

"Here, let me try. Do you have a hairpin?" Dick asked the girl, shouldering his way between them. She nodded tremulously, removing a pink barrette from her wispy hair.

"Thanks." He twisted the bit of wire into a crooked line, knowing that it wouldn't be that easy, knowing that they had to be watching somehow, and knowing that he still had to try.

As soon as he inserted the metal into the key slot, an electric current jumped from the hairpin to the fingers in his good hand, sending a pulse up his arm and locking his muscles. His vision went white, and convulsions racked his frozen body for several seconds. Just when he thought his veins might burst, it ended.

"Dick!" Roy caught him as he fell, vision swimming. "Are you okay? Can you hear me? That was dumb as hell!"

Working his tongue with difficulty, he licked his lips. "I know," he replied. "But whatever... whatever comes next will be worse. So it was worth a try. Now let me go." Roy released him, and he sagged back against the wall. His pulse throbbed in his ears, quick and erratic. Julie hovered beside him, reaching towards him in a comforting gesture, then pulling her hands back to bite her nails.

Mrs. Jacobsen, the sixth member of their unfortunate group, hurried over. "Sit down," she urged, putting a hand on his shoulder. Too tired to resist, he slid down the wall onto his butt, and she sat down beside him with a creak of her knees. "I used to be a nurse," she explained as she eased his sneakers off, followed by his socks. "Just as I thought. If only we had ice..."

He could already feel the burns on the bottom of his foot where the current had exited, but that didn't stop him from looking out of morbid curiosity. The sole of his left foot was marred by angry red marks that were rapidly cooling into white blisters.

"It'll be fine," he said, stretching his legs out with a sigh. "Just give me a minute, and-"

With a hiss, all eight showerheads turned on at once. But instead of water, out came a haze of sickly yellowish gas, slowly spreading through the air in nebulous clouds. "Cover your face!" Dick snapped, pulling his shirt collar up to cover his nose and mouth. He silently cursed the fact that he had been taken while wearing the expensive finery befitting the son of a billionaire playboy, and was now left with only a thin, ripped silk shirt to protect himself with.

"What's happening?" demanded the Sanford girl, her frightened voice muffled by the sleeve she kept pressed to her mouth. "What are they doing? What is it?"

This latest development explained the part of Scarecrow. "Whatever you do," Dick told them, "don't believe anything you see. Nothing is real. Don't move, don't touch anyone, don't do anything. Actually, just close your eyes."

"But what is it?" Julie asked, unsuccessfully attempting to bury herself in the low-cut neckline of her dress. "What are they doing?"

"I don't have time to explain. Just do it." They all stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Now!" he shouted impatiently. "All eyes, shut. And remember: Nothing is real."

Despite the cloth covering his face, Dick could already feel the paranoia begin to set in. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe shallowly, but he was only delaying the inevitable.

His skin began to crawl, and he twitched, trying to dislodge the feeling of spiders crawling up his arms. When the sensation reached his face, he dropped his shirt and began to swat frantically at the imaginary bugs, forcing himself to keep his eyes shut.

From somewhere to his right, a half-strangled scream sounded, and his eyes shot open. Through the noxious cloud that now filled the room, he could just make out a couple of large, indistinct figures, sitting still. But where-

Abruptly, the two children tumbled out of the mist and crashed into Dick. The boy screamed in terror as his sister raked her pink, manicured nails across his face. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked, wrapping her hands around his throat. "_Leave me alone!"_

That was when Dick's mind began to play tricks on him- or had it been playing tricks on him before? Was the Sanford girl transforming into a shrunken, slavering Joker-child, or vice versa?

He didn't care.

Jumping to his feet, Dick leapt at it, shoving it off its victim. A sharp pain shot up his injured arm, but adrenaline overrode it. On the floor, the creature began to writhe, letting loose unearthly cries of anger and aguish. "Leave me alone!" It wailed again, clawing at his arms. The whole time, the warped red smile stayed fixed in place.

"_No!"_ Dick whipped around just as a pair of pale hands descended on him, pulling him off of the Joker-child. He found himself shoved against a wall, those awful, blood red nails curled around his shoulders. Without thinking, he pulled his fist back and slammed it hard into her face, slackening her grip and sending her reeling.

She fell to the floor, and as Dick stared down at her, he realized that he was looking at the face of Mary Grayson.

Backing up in horror, he gagged clapped a hand over his mouth. She looked exactly as she had the night she died- body lying twisted and broken, limbs bent into unnatural positions, and just beneath her still-bright blue eyes was the bruise _he _had put there. He hadn't saved her. He had as good as killed her. He _had _killed her.

"Please, no..." he turned away as the bile rose in his throat, suffocating him. He closed his eyes and threw up, the remains of his last meal jerking themselves up from his stomach for a violent exit.

This wasn't happening. It wasn't real. None of it was real. He was Robin, and he knew how to master his fear. He brought his breath under control and tried to swallow the terror threatening to choke him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy Harper lumbering out of the haze, red hair wild and matted with an even redder liquid that hadn't been there before. Upon catching sight of Dick, hunched over and leaning against the wall for support, he stopped, muscles going rigid.

There was no cry of fear, no explanation or warning. In less than a second, Roy was on him, tackling the smaller boy to the floor. He went down hard, cracking the back of his skull on the ceramic. Above him, Roy's wide eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus, pupils dilated with blind fear. His weight crushed Dick's ribs, making it impossible to breathe, and before the other boy had time to strike him, he was unconscious.

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><p>Leather straps bit into his skin, restraining him.<p>

He awoke claustrophobic and immediately began to struggle, pulling futilely at the tight bonds. An attempt to yell left him coughing and gasping for air, and he subsided, pushing the strangling fear to the back of his mind. For now, he seemed safe enough. He was alone in some kind of small, white cubicle, shirtless and shoeless. All the blood and dirt had been scrubbed from his skin, and gauze was wound around his broken wrist, bruised ribs and burnt foot. When he tried to lift his head, he felt stitches tug at the back of his skull, and he winced at the memory.

With the sharp scrape of metal on metal, the curtain slid open, and in stepped none other than Maria Lucette.

"Awake, I see," she commented. She had shed the sapphire robe of last night for a skintight black-and-green suit, and in her hand was a glass of water.

"Traitor," he accused, looking at her darkly. Her eyes glittered back at him, cold and hard, and he knew he had been right about her.

"I never betrayed anyone," she replied, unbuckling the straps around his arms and chest. "No one ever said I was on your side in the first place. A lot can change in fifteen years." Sliding cool hands under his back, she lifted him into a sitting position and put the glass to his lips.

When it was finished, she set it down on the floor and began to undo the leather binding his legs. "Good news," she murmured, producing a pair of handcuffs that she locked around his wrists. "The ransom is ready. As long as Bruce doesn't try any funny business, you'll be going home in one piece."

He didn't believe her for one second.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em.

**Author's Note: **This chapter's a bit more boring than the first two, but I promise it picks up soon. Sorry I didn't post anything earlier; yesterday was Christmas and I got a bit caught up playing Arkham Asylum on our new PS3 today. c:

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><p>42 Chance Street was an empty one-story rental space, high-ceilinged and full of columns. The only illumination came from the waxing gibbous moon, filling the windows with pale light that spilled in squares onto the floor. By the time the Wayne party showed up, the Injustice League had already arranged itself behind and around columns.<p>

In the middle of the room stood Two-Face and the Joker, with Julie and Dick cuffed and gagged between them. The ordeal of the past twenty-four hours had worn on the young Gotham socialite, and she waited with shoulders slumped and knees bowed from exhaustion. Beside her, Dick struggled to remain vigilant as sleep weighed heavy on his eyelids. He had made note of where all eleven villains hid, not trusting the Injustice League not to try something backhanded.

Earlier, before they left the secret compound, Scarecrow had found Dick to tell him that Dick had done a good job in his test. The boy wasn't sure what a "good job" entailed, but a compliment from Scarecrow didn't quite seem like something to be proud of. He got the feeling that the scientist had enjoyed the performance.

With a skid of the tires, two cars pulled into the street, lighting up the front windows. Everyone in the room tensed, ears perked for the sound of car doors slamming and footsteps clicking closer. It didn't come. The cars didn't stop. Two-Face jammed the barrel of his gun into Dick's ribs, making the boy wince. In place of his ruined shirt, they had given him a green LexCorp t-shirt, but he remained barefoot, and the concrete was cold against his toes.

A deafening crash, accompanied by a shower of broken glass, announced Bruce Wayne's arrival. Both cars- the sleek, black, armor-plated Lamborghini and an old white van- slammed through the double glass doors and skidded to a halt. The door to the van creaked open slowly, and Two-Face's hand tightened on Dick's shoulder. Out stepped the lone, lean form of Bruce Wayne.

"I brought your money," he said, gesturing to the van. The Joker laughed. "Now I believe you owe me something that's mine."

"We'll see," growled Two-Face, jerking his head at one of the hidden masks. "First we have to make sure you're telling the truth." The mask scuttled forward across the empty room, eyes darting around nervously.

"Be my guest." Bruce strode to the back of the van and threw open the bay doors. Both he and the mask disappeared inside. After a minute, Two-Face began to shift impatiently, prodding Dick hard in the side with his gun, as if he could make them go faster.

Finally, the mask popped out again. "Looks good," he said, crossing back to his side. He swallowed. "A billion dollars American, boss."

"Get back over there," snarled Two-Face. "How the hell are we supposed to get the money if you're over here? Imbecile."

Bruce smiled slightly. "The keys are in the ignition," he told the goon. "And if you take one step closer-" he pulled a pistol out of his jacket pocket- "before my son and fiancée are released, you're dead where you stand. Don't think I trust any of you for one second."

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, you injure me so," moaned the Joker, clutching his chest dramatically. "Look at this face. Do I look like I would ever double-cross you? But if it will reassure you..." He sighed and unlocked Julie's handcuffs, letting them fall to the floor with a loud clang. With a push, he sent her stumbling towards Bruce.

"Money," reminded Two-Face, releasing Dick. However, he kept his gun trained on the boy's back as he limped, cautious, across the cavernous room. Bruce lowered his gun, and the man hurried towards the van.

Julie reached him first, flinging herself gratefully into his embrace. They kissed, his fingers tangling in her curls as if he'd never let go. Dick was still a few yards away when he turned to look behind him. The goons were already gathering, readying themselves to leave, but Two-Face stood still, watching them. His coin spun through the air, catching webs of light, falling, falling- He caught it and pointed straight at Julie's retreating back. "Tails," he said, and raised the gun.

Not stopping to think, Dick dove for the unwitting woman, knocking her and Bruce out of the way to the floor. The bullet passed right past Dick's head, the wind ruffling his hair. His heart seemed to skip a beat at the near miss, and he crashed to the floor and jumped up at once, ready to run. Retaliating shots rang out, devolving into a firefight. He didn't care. Leaving the other two behind, he raced for the exit, blind panic at his heels.

Someone- multiple someones- ran beside him, behind him. He could hear their ragged breath and frantic footfalls. It could have been Bruce reaching out to help him, or the Joker with strangling hands, and Dick wouldn't know the difference. He yanked the door open, tripped over the lintel, and collapsed onto the cobblestones.

Alfred- for who else could it be?- backed the Lamborghini out of the damaged building, glass crunching beneath its tires. Bruce lifted Dick to his feet and dragged him inside, sandwiched between him and Julie. Then the doors slammed shut, the engine revved, and they were off at a reckless speed, fishtailing around corners and sending up sprays of sewer water.

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed through the window, falling in slanted squares upon the bed where Dick slept. His blue eyes flickered beneath their eyelids, and his fists were tangled in the sheets, clinging onto the trace of some patched-together dream.<p>

His breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes flew open, darting to the clock beside his head. 7:55 am on Monday morning. Five minutes before school started.

There would be no school today, not for Dick Grayson. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around sleepily. His room had been cleaned- the drawer he'd left hanging open was closed, the various items of clothing littering the floor gone, the textbooks scattered across the desk now in a neat pile. Sometime in the night he must have taken a shower, because his hair was still damp against his neck and his skin free of blood and grime.

Taking care not to upset his aching ribs, he shifted himself into a sitting position. A second later, a stabbing pain made itself present in the back of his skull, and he groaned and doubled over, clutching his head. He had forgotten about the stitches.

When Bruce knocked on the door seventeen minutes later, there was no response. After a few moments of grace, he walked in, and found Dick sitting in the same position, staring blankly at the wall.

A rough jolt ripped Dick from his dreaming, and he flinched away from his father's hand. "What were you doing?" asked Bruce, looking alarmed.

The boy shook his head, chasing away the cobwebs. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I think I was sleeping. With my... eyes open."

"Don't do it again," Bruce replied irrationally.

Dick looked down at his hands, pale and splayed over the blanket. "You didn't shoot them, did you? I didn't even know you owned a gun..."

Bruce was silent for a moment. "It wasn't loaded," he said, "but Alfred's was. I'm not sure he actually got any of them, though."

"_Alfred_ owns a gun?" Dick looked up at his father incredulously.

"Yes, although I'm not sure he's ever used it before," answered Bruce, suppressing a smile. They were quiet for a moment, picturing the gentle butler trying to shoot anyone.

"There's something I need to tell you." His father waited, and Dick frowned, trying to remember. "It... Oh." Dread blossomed in his gut. "The Injustice League. They were behind the kidnapping. We weren't the only ones. Th-"

"Yes, I know," interrupted the other. "Greta and Bo Sanford were also taken, along with Roy Harper and Helena Jacobsen. We already deduced that they were connected. I called Oliver this morning- Roy's home, and okay."

Dick nodded. "That's good," he agreed. "But that's not what I was going to say. Lex Luthor is making another bid for world domination, and I think I know how he's going to do it."

* * *

><p>"So you're saying that Scarecrow's fear serum comes in <em>deadly vapor <em>flavor now, they just stole four billion dollars to mass produce it, and the Injustice League is going to release this gas over the entire world to induce riots and chaos that will allow Lex to take over all governments, using his antidote as leverage." Artemis summed it up for all of them. They were standing in the main hall of Mount Justice, discussing the new intel while still keeping an eye on the monitors.

"Basically," Robin nodded, grimacing.

"Thank you for coming forward with this," Superman said. "With your warning, you have given the League enough time to stop this before it gets out of control." He turned to leave.

In a second, Kid Flash was standing toe to toe with the Man of Steel, only coming up to his nose. "Wait a second, what about us?" demanded the redhead. "I mean, this all took place in Robin's city. He's the one who sleuthed around and found out what was really going on. Shouldn't this be a job for us?"

Grimacing, Superman pushed Kid aside. "The circumstances are too dire to involve you children. We are talking about anarchy on a world-wide scale- the globe cloaked in darkness and fear. An Earth that is the Joker's playground. This is a job for the League."

"We can help," interjected Robin, although he didn't move from his spot against the wall. He was still sore, and he didn't cut a very intimidating figure anyway. "We're not quite children anymore. Kid Flash and Aqualad are eighteen now, and we've all been at this for several years."

Running a hand through his hair, Superman sighed and cast a look at the silent Batman. "I don't know," he replied. "Batman is still in charge of your missions. Bring it up with him." The responsibility having been satisfactorily handed off, Superman departed to gather the League.

"I want to help," said Superboy as soon as the Kryptonian was gone.

"As Robin said, you are no longer children," Batman began. "You are all very experienced, very capable heroes, and as you also live on this planet, you have a stake and a say in its fate. However, Superman is right- taking care of this problem is a job for the League, and the whole League is going to be very busy with it. At the moment, your leader is somewhat incapacitated-" he nodded to Robin- "and I have no other missions for you, so your task is to take the place of your mentors and protect your cities. Green Arrow, Superman, the Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Zatarra, and myself will be unable to go on patrol during this time, as well as most of the rest of the League. It will be up to you to take care of the country."

"But Superboy and I live here, in Mount Justice," Miss Martian said, bewildered. "What do we do?"

"I'll assign you a city," replied Batman. "Unless any large incidents occur, or you find something related to the Injustice League, you do not need to report to me. However, you do need to regularly check in with each other. Despite the fact that you'll be in different areas, you are still functioning as a team, and need to be prepared to come to each other's aid at any given time. Have I made myself clear? I think the job is very straightforward."

"Sir, yes sir," Zatanna saluted from the couch.

"Good. You start tonight... With the exception of Robin. I want _you_ to find Red Arrow."

* * *

><p>The task had been easy enough. As Dick Grayson, he had been invited over to Roy's apartment multiple times, and so that was the first place he looked.<p>

Standing in the alley behind the building, Robin tossed his grappling hook, wrapping it expertly around the railing of the first story fire escape. Pressing the release button, he was pulled up, using his good hand to leap over the railing and land lightly on the metal grid. He tucked the grappling hook away and began to climb.

At the fifth floor, he stopped. He could just make out the dark shapes of Roy's living room, the coffee table littered with magazines and cigarettes. He could jimmy the window open if he wanted to, but why would he bother when the port to Roy's bedroom was only a foot away and wide open?

Stepping up onto the railing, he jumped the distance to the window sill. For a moment, he balanced on the very edge, fifty feet above a very painful fall, and then he slipped inside.

Roy slept heavily, tangled in the sheets and snoring loudly. Normally at this time of the night he would be out, stopping crime and whatnot, but Green Arrow had decommissioned him for the day. Robin silently thanked God that for once, Roy had actually listened to his former mentor.

Leaning over the man's sleeping form, he slapped him awake.

With a startled grunt, Roy came awake, fist hitting the air where Robin's face had been only a moment ago. "Good morning," smirked the younger boy.

"_Robin?"_ Sitting up blearily, Roy flicked the beside lamp on and squinted at the invader. "Jesus, how did you get- oh. I'm never leaving my window open again... Man, you scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, yeah, good to see you safe and sound too." He rolled his eyes. "Batman sent me to find you. We have a job."

"I'm not part of the League," Roy reminded him, rolling out of bed. "I don't have to do any of your jobs. I have a job of my own. Two, actually."

Robin flopped down on the edge of the bed. "Well, we're putting your job on hold," he replied. "I told them about the Injustice League, the fear gas, all of it." Catching Roy's disbelieving look, he added, "Batman and I said that we heard rumors of drug cartel activity and went to check it out. We told them that we got into the control room and saw the whole thing on the security feed records."

"And they bought it?" Roy asked, stripping down to his underclothes. His bare, muscular back was mottled with dark bruises, remnant of some recent ordeal Robin had not been present for.

"What else were they supposed to think?" He averted his eyes as the older boy began to suit up.

"Well, what about the broken wrist and numerous other injuries? Did you tell them that you accidentally got hit by the Batmobile or something? No one's going to believe you lost a fight that badly to some petty robber."

"'Course not." Robin grimaced, putting a hand to his scraped cheek. "We told 'em that I got into a fight at school, where I obviously have to play weak."

Slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder, Red Arrow kicked his closet closed. "Must've been some fight," he said. "So where are we going?"

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I'm actually in the Batcave," Red Arrow marveled, turning in circles to take the whole thing in. "It's bigger than I thought it would be- <em>is that the Batmobile?"<em> He raced to the car, running reverent hands over its light-absorbent surface. Robin snorted and turned back to the Batcomputer.

It was unlikely that the Injustice League would leave anything traceable behind, if anyone would be able to find it, it would be him. He had already hacked into the database for LexCorp, and was in the process of speedily disabling the firewalls surrounding its transactional records.

"Hey, what's that flashing light?"

"What flashing light?" Robin asked distractedly, keeping his gaze locked on the computer screen. The splint on his wrist was hindering his typing, slowing him down and making discrepancies in the code.

"The one on this little computer-thing."

"These are the only computers in the Cave," replied Robin, finally managing to tear his eyes from the bank of monitors in front of him.

"Then what's this?" Red Arrow held up a small, rectangular tablet with a flashing red light. "I found it on the ground by the Batmobile. Whatever it is, I think it wants your attention."

Robin narrowed his eyes and got up from the chair. "Give that to me." Taken aback at his tone, Red Arrow handed it over silently.

The thing vaguely resembled a PalmPilot, not much bigger than his hand. He turned it over in his hands, examining it. Although it was shaped like a phone, there was no keypad, no headphone jack, no camera, no space for the charger. It didn't even have a logo printed on it. The only things that marred its silvery-smooth surface was a speaker, one small button and the cover for the battery. He popped it off and pulled out the battery, but there was no more information on that either. It was small and square, lacking any print on it that would give away its origin. Placing it back inside the device, Robin turned to Red Arrow. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's some kind of primitive communicator," he said. "But it's nothing I've ever seen before. I guess Batman must have brought it home from somewhere and left it here."

"Well, let's find out what it is," Red Arrow suggested, eyes glinting curiously. "That light is still flashing. Just press that little button there, and let's see what it can do."

For all Robin knew, he was setting off a tracker or the detonator for a bomb. But the intrigue was too much; he couldn't help himself. He pressed the button.

Instantly, Harley Quinn's grinning face filled the screen. "Finally!" she crowed. "Hello, Robin! Hey, Speedy!"

"It's Red Arrow," growled the archer.

"Yeah, whatever." She waved her hand at the camera carelessly. "I'm so glad you finally answered my call; I've been sitting here waiting _forever._"

"What do you want, Harley?" Robin demanded. "How did you get this in here?"

"Well, I don't know where 'here' is, exactly, considering I'm not in the same place as you. But I'd assume that Batman brought it here, since he's the one I gave it to. To be honest, I was expecting him to answer this call. But it's nice to see you too!"

"Yeah, I'm sure the feeling's mutual. But why the hell would Batman accept a gift from you?" Robin raised an eyebrow above his domino mask.

She put a finger to her painted lips, thinking. "Maybe he likes gifts?" She shrugged. "Not that he knew he was getting it. I slipped it into his belt last time I saw him, but not the last time he saw me. What happened to your face?"

"Nothing." He stepped back, away from the camera. If the Joker showed up, he would recognize the wounds left there by their trip up the gravel driveway last night

"Returning to the original question," interrupted Red Arrow, "what do you want?"

"Exchanging small talk is an important part of every conversation," Harley replied huffily. "'Cutting to the chase', as it were, is _not _courteous, Mr. Arrow. As for what I want- well, what do I ever want? I just want to play." She lowered her eyelashes and smiled slyly. "This message is just a warning. I see you've already figured out what Lexy's big plan is, but the Joker and I aren't going to just sit around waiting for the world to go to shit. We want to have an active role in it, and we thought we'd get a head start with Gotham. Look out the window, sweetie." The screen went black once again.

"What the _hell _was that?"

Robin was already racing to the computer, opening video feeds on all the monitors. The interior of Wayne Manor was quiet, safe, intact, empty but for Alfred puttering around the kitchen. Of course, because no one knew that was his home. It wasn't the manor that was in danger.

"Come on!" He grabbed Red Arrow's hand and pulled him towards his motorbike, stuffing the communicator into his belt after a moment's hesitation.

The bike tore out of the Batcave's secret exit, going airborne for a few seconds. Red Arrow yelled, his grip around Robin's waist tightening, and the Boy Wonder grinned. He was back on the seedy streets of Gotham, in his element.

His elation was cut short when he looked up, and saw what Harley Quinn was talking about. The tallest and most secure building in Gotham on fire, standing like a torch to the smoky night sky. Wayne Tower was burning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em.

**Author's Note: **This one is shorter and more hastily written than the others. Sorry about that, guys. I just felt bad about leaving you with nothing. Anyways, sorry about its crappiness. I probably won't post again until next year, so have a very happy New Years!

* * *

><p>Robin stared up at Wayne Tower in disbelief. The icon of peace and prosperity for Gotham that had been a landmark of the city his whole life was burning. And this was not just arson- it was sabotage. The fire had begun on the very top floor of the building, where Bruce Wayne's office was.<p>

If his father had been at work, he would be dead by now.

Just to make sure, he used his communicator to get in touch with Batman. "Hello?" No answer. "Batman, come in."

A second later, the communicator crackled to life. "This better be an emergency," Batman sighed.

"Just making sure you're alive," replied Robin cheekily. "Afraid to tell you Wayne Tower's on fire. Harley Quinn and the Joker are probably behind it, but don't worry, Red Arrow and I have got it."

"Be car-" Robin cut off the call before Batman could finish his warning.

"So what's the plan?" asked Red Arrow as Robin revved the motorcycle. "Your city, your call. I'm just here to kick some ass."

"We're not the fire department," the Boy Wonder said with a grin, kicking up the gear. "They can take care of that little debacle. You and I are-"

"-going after Harley Quinn?" the other finished hopefully.

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

><p>"While she was talking, I used my glove to track the signal," Robin explained as they sped through Gotham's bright city streets, running red lights and earning themselves angry shouts from pedestrians and drivers alike. "I narrowed it down to the radius of about a block. She's somewhere near the Clock Tower, which makes sense, because she'd need to be close by to monitor her little fire."<p>

"And what makes you think she'll still be there?" Red Arrow shouted over the wind.

"Hey, fuck you!" yelled a driver as they nearly clipped his fender.

"I don't," answered the Boy Wonder, ignoring the man. "But if I know Harley Quinn and the Joker, they'll want to play. They're not just going to set a fire for a few laughs and then run away. This is just the beginning. They'll know we're coming, and they'll have left something behind for us."

"So we're basically walking into a trap."

Robin shrugged, nearly throwing Red Arrow off the back of the motorcycle. "There's no other way to deal with pyschos like them. They know we can find them, so they'll be expecting us. They'll be disappointed if we don't show up, but whatever game they've prepared will still go on. This usually involves the death of civilians, which we try to prevent as often as possible, so..."

"So we walk into the trap." Red Arrow sighed. "Better than sitting around nursing my bruises and watching you write code all night, I suppose."

The Clock Tower emerged from the indistinct mush of skyscrapers, set apart by its grey stones and metal spire. On its front was the round, white clock face, a mirror image of the full moon, staring down at Gotham's antlike citizens dispassionately. Its hands pointed to the one and the four- 1:20 am.

They leapt off the bike, abandoning it by a lamppost. "Aren't you afraid of it getting stolen?" asked the archer in a low voice as they walked up the steps.

"Nah. I programmed it so that it only responds to my touch. I guess a thief could try dragging it off, but-" he grinned- "Lighting wouldn't like it very much, and they might be in for a nasty surprise."

Right then and there, Red Arrow decided that he would never touch any of Robin's things with his explicit permission and a guarantee that it was safe.

Somewhere high above, a small voice wailed high and thin, and they quickened their pace. The Boy Wonder put his hand on the handle of the Clock Tower's door and pushed. Locked. He pulled a set of lock picks out of his belt and began to work, muttering about "unnecessary hold ups." A few seconds later, they were in.

The interior of the tower was dark and shadowy, its large hall full of echoing whispers and things that lurked in the imagination. They dared not speak, lest it be heard by some hidden enemy. Instead, they advanced in cautious silence, one with an arrow nocked to his bow, the other with a glinting birdarang held ready to strike.

Nothing jumped out at them and yelled "Boo!" but the oppressive silence, their footsteps nerve-wrackingly loud, was almost worse. Unchallenged, Robin reached the stairwell at the end of the room first and ascended, Red Arrow on his heels. Here, they were at a disadvantage, for any waiting foe could drop down upon them and have them at his or her mercy in seconds.

But no one did.

The suspense was murderous, and Robin forced himself to calm down. Imagining all the possibilities would only distract him from the reality of his mission. He needed to be aware of the dangers, but focused on what was right in front of him. Right now, the next step was right in front of him, and so that was what he concentrated on.

"Shh! Do you hear that?" The younger boy stopped when they were two-thirds of the way up, holding a hand up to halt the archer's progress and his questions. A faint, muffled groaning floated down to them, eerie in the enclosed stairwell. It was a familiar sound- the cries of someone gagged.

In soundless unison, they bounded up the rest of the way and burst into the room right behind the clock face, weapons at the ready. Red Arrow did a quick check off all the shady corners as Robin rushed to the woman tied to a chair in the middle of the room. She gasped as he ripped the gag off her mouth, and began to babble at once.

"Annie!" she cried, "Annie, my daughter, she's got her, outside, you must have seen her, you have to save her-"

"Calm down," urged Robin, kneeling in front of her and slicing through her bonds. "You're not making sense. What happened to Annie? Tell me slowly."

The woman took a long breath through her nose, then spoke. "The clown girl got her. She tied her outside- to the minute hand. When it hits thirty, she'll slip off a-and- fall... _Save her!"_ She seized Robin's arms, pleading with her eyes. He exchanged a look with Red Arrow.

"How are we going to get out there?" he asked, twisting his mouth worriedly.

"Batman would do it," said the woman.

Robin's face hardened. He brushed the woman off and stood up. "No we. You stay here and take care of anyone who comes up here. I can do it." Red Arrow said nothing, only watched him.

A small door next to the clock face led outside, to a small balcony that tourists had been allowed on before a boy fell to his death from it in 1989. Since then, it had fallen into disrepair, the paint peeling and the stone molding over.

That didn't matter. He was only going to be on it for a minute.

From here, he could see what he had missed before. The cries they had heard from down below came from a small girl, no more than four or five, who dangled helplessly from the minute hand. The balcony he stood on was all the way by the eleven, meaning that Quinn must have abandoned the girl there half an hour ago.

Taking a deep breath, he flung himself off the edge of the balcony, free-falling down towards the girl. She screamed as he approached, shielding her eyes. He let the grappling hook fly, snagging on the very center of the clock. Left with several yards of slack, he swung in a wide arc towards her, grabbing her by the hand. They were brought to an abrupt halt by the rope that still held her to the minute hand, ticking closer to the thirty, and as it pulled them back, Robin switched hands, holding the girl with the same hand he clung to the grappling hook with. With the now-empty hand, he pulled out a birdarang and sliced cleanly through the rope.

She shrieked loudly at the sudden release, left hanging hundreds of feet above the ground in the single-handed grip of a young boy. A wet stain spread across the front of her pants, and Robin grimaced as he grabbed her more securely around the waist, pulling her closer to him.

"This is going to scare you, but don't worry," he warned her, and then released the grappling hook from the center of the clock. Another hoarse cry was yanked from her throat, and then they were hooked to the balcony and he was pulling them up to safety.

"I told you you didn't have to worry," Robin admonished, setting her down on the balcony. She clung onto his gloved hand, shaking violently, and he shook his head. Her mother was going to have years of therapy to pay for after this.

"_Annie!" _The woman flung herself at her daughter, cuddling her close to her breast and sobbing into her shoulder. "Thank you so much," she said, turning her tear-stained face up to the two heroes. "And if you catch up to those bastards- _kill them._"


End file.
